


Garden of Eden

by Antipode



Series: I Was Lost Without You [2]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Action & Romance, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Lesbians in Space, shiara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28024467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antipode/pseuds/Antipode
Summary: A re-telling of the events of Mass Effect 1 with the I Was Lost Without You canon cast. Eden Prime, where a young Commander Sybilla Shepard encounters a Prothean beacon. Her life, and the fate of the galaxy, is forever changed.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Liara T'Soni
Series: I Was Lost Without You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937521
Kudos: 16





	1. Quite A View

**Author's Note:**

> A beginning.

With a strangled grunt, the young asari struggled to pull herself over the ledge. The rocky ground was slick with ice and slow, hampering her purchase and numbing her fingers even through the thick, double-insulated gloves. Wind buffeted at her slim frame, alternating between forcing her against the sheer cliff face and trying to throw her away from it. The heavy winds kicked up sleet and snow and stone, hailing off of her like pinpricks, stinging at her scales, at her crest. The altitude, coupled with the gravity, was exhausting. Briefly, she thought about activating her jump boots, but with gritted teeth and a shake of her head she chased the idea away. That would be cheating.

Finally, with a little help from the guide rope, she managed to scrabble up the cliff face and heave herself atop the plateau, the hard-packed snow cool against the pebbled scale of her cheek. She let herself catch her breath, soaking in Parnitha’s rays beneath wide-open, impossibly sapphire sky dotted with the barest wisp of cloud. All around her, the view was breathtaking - the Seyxethea mountain range stretching as far as the eye could see behind her, the pine-dotted uplands of Serrice below. She could just barely make out the shimmering, topless towers of Veyestna, the gently-sloped domes of the University of Serrice, the glittering jewel of the Persimmon Gardens of Matriarch Mirassne. The wonders and beauty of Thessia were glorious from the window of a shuttle, but from the peak of a mountain, in the manner of her ancient ancestors? It was indescribable.

Reluctantly pulling herself from the vista for a moment, the asari ubuckled her pack and set it down carefully. With some effort, she pulled out a heavy, oblong object, tightly secured within, and after several slightly frustrating moments of tugging succeeded in freeing it from her pack, setting this, too, down gently. She scooted a few paces back and eyed her placement, re-positioning it a few more times until, finally, she seemed satisfied with both its security and visibility. It was a smallish statuette, about three feet high, burnished gold fashioned in the likeness of a delta-winged starship taking flight, cresting and rising above an orange-tufted sunbird. The asari gently wiped away the snow that had already accumulated on the tiny inscription on the base of the statue. It read, in both Earth English and Thessian Ara’at, the dialect of Armali: ‘Ad Astra Per Aspera. Sybilla Reem Shepard, 2184-2356.’

“Quite a view, huh Dad?” the asari grinned, blinking back tears. “Best seats in the house.”

She was silent for a time, her hand on the statue, looking back out onto the Thessian horizon. Sunlight danced on the swirling snow, reflected off the ice, throwing sheets of pure brilliance into the pristine sky. “Oh,” she remembered. “I nearly forgot.” Rummaging through her pack yet again, she came out with a tiny stone carving of a rose and laid it at the foot of the statuette. “Your favourite. I couldn’t find a climbing rose, but… this will have to do.” She sighed, smiling happily.

“‘Nezzie wanted to come, but… well, you know today’s hard on Mom. She promised to come next year, and either I’ll stay with Mom, or… or we’ll bring her. We’ll all go, like we used to. Sound good?” Her voice, crisp and clear in the morning air, echoed oddly amidst the snow-capped peaks and gusting winds.

“It’s as beautiful up here as I remember. When we used to come, as kids… I don’t know how you climbed this thing with the two of us hanging from your shoulder. Mom  _ always _ used her jet boots, and you always made fun of her for ‘cheating.’ And then we’d drink plum wine, and…” She wiped at her face. “Well, I forgot the plum wine. I had to carry  _ you _ up this time.”

“I think I met someone,” she said suddenly, after a pause. “Her name is Aurora. She’s an adjutant for the turian ambassador. Mom likes her. She says she reminds her of Uncle Garrus.” She laughed. “I don’t think I really know what that means, but I think it means you’d approve. And Grunt likes her, too. We’re… good, together. She makes me laugh, challenges me… but she’s with the fleet, and… and I don’t know if I can bond with a soldier. It scares me. I don’t know how Mom did it.”

New tears sprung up, and these ones she didn’t wipe away, let freeze to her cheeks, the rawness on her scales an echo of her heart. “I miss you, Dad,” she sobbed. “I know… I know we got more time with you than most asari get with a human parent. I know I should be grateful, but… I miss you. I miss you so much…” She rubbed at her crest, her shaking not only from the cold. “Mom misses you too. And ‘Nezzie, and Grunt…”

“Grunt doesn’t call so much anymore. He just forgets. Not about us,” she added quickly, “Just to call. I don’t think he knows what to do with peace.” She laughed. “Remind you of anyone? I miss him, too. And ‘Nezzie’s almost finished her second doctorate. You’d be so proud. Mom sure is. Mom’s the asari Councillor, now. It keeps her busy.” She choked out another laugh. “She still won’t date, though. I tried setting her up with this cute drell at the embassy. I said you would have approved, but…” The young asari let out a long sigh. “She gave me the ‘lifespan talk’ about Aurora, and to ‘Nezzie, but she never follows her own advice. You know, classic Mom.” She rubbed at the statue, again. “She still cries at night, sometimes, when she thinks we’re asleep.”

“I miss you, Dad,” she repeated. “We all do.”

She sat next to the statue for a long time, her arms wrapped around it, looking out onto that magnificent vista. “Did you ever think about how things might have been different? How your life, all our lives, might have been different, if it wasn’t for the War?” She sighed, again. “You probably would never have met Mom. But maybe… but maybe… I don’t know. I just feel like we still had so much to talk about. There’s still so much I don’t know, about you. About how you became who you were. I know you didn’t like to talk about it with us, with anyone. And I get that. But sometimes it feels like strangers know more about my own Dad than I do.”

“Maybe I’m not supposed to know,” she announced. “I don’t know, Dad. But whatever it is you did… looking at all  _ this _ …” She swept her arm out, indicating the moutaintop, the Thessian horizon, Parnitha’s rays, the pristine sky, even the stars beyond. “Whatever you did to keep all this here… you did good, Dad.” A fresh wave of tears brimmed through her smile. “You did good.”


	2. The Next Candidate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain David Anderson and Admiral Steven Hackett meet with the Earth ambassador, Donnel Udina.

“Who’s the next candidate?”

Anderson stifled a sigh and glanced towards the grizzled old Admiral sitting across from him. Hackett's flinty grey eyes betrayed none of the annoyance he knew his old friend was concealing, his expression cautiously neutral. His head shook, ever so slightly. Anderson stifled another sigh. They'd been going at this all afternoon, and the draub walls of the conference room were starting to close in.

“Major Alan Bartlett.” Anderson did his best to mimic Hackett’s stoicness as he slid yet another dossier across the table. “Fifth fleet marine, stint with the Corsairs. Thirteen successful engagements against batarian extremists in the Verge. Came up under Major Izunami.” He cleared his throat. “He’s currently on, ah, clandestine operations. Good man. Good soldier.” He risked a glance back at Hackett.

“Hmm.” The ambassador thumbed through the document, his expression as unreadable as it had been for the last few hours. Unreadable, and unimpressed. “Clandestine affairs may be a little… divisive. Particularly with the turians.” He adjusted the collar of his incredibly expensive-looking tunic and looked up at the pair of military men. “Do we have anyone with a more… favourable record with interspecies relations?”

Anderson met Hackett’s eyes. The Admiral nodded subtly.

“Well, now that you mention it…” He found the dossier he’d been holding onto all afternoon. Udina scooped it up almost eagerly.

“Commander… Shepard. Shepard, Shepard, Shepard… why do I know that name?”

“Her mother, perhaps,” Hackett offered. “Hannah Shepard. Captain of the Einstein. Youngest woman in Alliance history to command a carrier?”

Udina’s face remained blank. 

“She was Admiral Drescher’s XO during the re-taking of Shanxi. She won the Star of Terra.”

“Ah, of course,” the ambassador said unconvincingly. 

Hackett must have seen something in Anderson’s eyes, because the Admiral cow-kicked him in the shin under the table. Stifling a yelp instead of a groan, he glowered at his old friend and superior officer. The old pirate broke kayfabe just long enough to flash him a grin.

“Huh,” Udina grunted, oblivious, head in the dossier. “Spacer, so no particular tie to any Earth nation or another. Military pedigree… biotic prodigy, BAaT graduate, Valkyrie program, two tours on Thessia… wait.” He glanced up. “Elysium.  _ This _ is Sybilla Shepard? Elysium? That Risa Uvarsen movie, 27 Hours? The hero of the Skyllian Blitz?”

Hackett and Anderson shared a glance. “You know,” the Admiral said slowly, “I believe you are right, Ambassador.”

“My daughters love that movie,” Udina muttered. “Let’s see… biotic commando training, joint turian-human rapid response task force, Traverse anti-piracy task force, Interplanetary Combatives Training program... she’s N7? So you know her, Captain.”

“Know her, and can vouch for her quality and her character,” Anderson nodded. “She’s the best candidate the Villa has produced in a decade. Top scores in all her classes, broke records on all her physicals. They practically let her re-write the biotic commando course, given her Huntress training.”

“I believe Councillor Tevos requested her name on the list personally,” Hackett added. “She oversaw her sponsorship into the Valkyrie program. The Republic has had their eye on young Shepard for some time now.”

“Elysium  _ and  _ Torfan… 103rd Division… Well, we can’t question her courage,” Udina chewed. “Nothing deniable in her file, so that’ll keep Sparatus happy. And Tevos requested her, personally. That means at least two out of three…”

Hackett and Anderson shared another look. Both men sat quietly, rigidly, nearly at attention, as seconds ticked by and the ambassador poured over the dossier.

“I’ll make the call,” he said finally. The two navy men let out quiet, relieved sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things have been changed from the way the game presents it. I always thought this conversation could have used some legs.


	3. Simulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard gets the call while running training simulations on Fort Charles Upham.

“Damn,” Shujimi panted, collapsing against the wooden barricade as he tried to catch his breath. “Defending. No way in.”

To their right, small arms fire chattered, staccato echoes filtering through the audio dampeners of their hardsuits. The shots mingled with the continuous pelting of sleet and the howl of gale force winds, distorting oddly in the extreme weather. Trees overhead swayed and shook, dislodging even more snow into the swirling wind. The other soldiers shivered in place, vibrating slightly to keep their bodies moving, to keep frost from accumulating on the joints of their armor. They squinted at each other through the zero visibility, nervously eyeing the environmental hazard monitors in the HUDs inside their helmets.

They felt, rather than saw, the grin behind the helmet as a gauntleted hand slapped Shujimi on the shoulderplate.

“What’s the matter, Shujimi - you trying to live forever?”

Nervous anxiety turned to nervous excitement as both fire teams huddled in closer. They’d heard the rumors, read the after-actions - almost to a soldier, they’d seen the movie - and after weeks and weeks of exhaustive physical training and supervised simulations, they were finally getting to see the legend in action. She was tall, and the hardsuit couldn’t entirely conceal the lean muscle beneath it, but her presence went beyond the physical, blurred into something almost spiritual - an aura, a haze of invincibility. She knelt in the snow and motioned for the others to follow suit, bringing up a tactical map on her ‘omni with a few swipes of the haptic keyboard. Her voice was low, urgent, outlining a plan of action with a confidence that was infectious.

“Two fire teams, Able and Item. Deladier, Flores, Watkins, Ibanez; we’re Able. Levy, Barcalow, Shujimi, Meru, Djana; you’re Item. Think you can handle a squad, Djana?”

“I know I can, ma’am.”

“I know you can, too. You take your rifles flank right, low and fast, along this drift. There’s scattered light cover but don’t you get stuck in until you get here, this defilade. Blast crater about a hundred meters from their position. They’re going to have every gun they have trained on you, so Levy, Meru, you keep those biotic barriers up, yeah? You hit that crater and you keep your heads down.”

“What about us, ma’am?” Deladier asked impatiently.

“We wait a slow count of five until their attention is all on Item. Then we flank left, through these woods, and hit the tower with the emplaced gun.”

“You’re gonna turn the gun on the camp,” Flores breathed.

“Well, it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.” 

Excited murmurs and chuckles rippled through the soldiers. They were primed and ready. 

“Alright, sweethearts, bring it in-”

**OVERRIDE INITIATED. SIMULATION SUSPENDED**

The VI voice rang through their helmets even as the haze of blue-white light suffused their vision. The howl of wind and chatter of gunfire ceased as abruptly as pulling a plug; sheets of slow and ice and the chill they brought with them vanishing into gossamer, to be replaced by draub white, everywhere; the hard lines of the obstacle course, the tinny glow of fluorescent lighting. LOKI mechs slumped to de-activation from their ‘entrenched position.’ Soldiers shuddered under their hardsuits as neural stimulators stopped replicating environmental effects, leaving everyone with a disjointed, ghostly sensation.

Commander Shepard ripped her helmet off, furiously paging the control room via frustrated haptic inputs on her ‘omni. “Okay, control, what the hell?”

“Major needs to see you, ma’am,” came a mortified reply.

“I’ve been prepping this simulation for a week, Breckenridge,” Shepard snarled, running a gauntleted hand through thick, dark curls. Frustration seeped from every line in her face. “You couldn’t have bought me an hour?”

“The Major was very insistent.” There was a slight pause. “He, uh, didn’t seem happy, either.”

She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, softening her tone a little for the beleaguered technician. “Tell him I’ll be upstairs after I’ve showered, then.”

“Uh, apologies, ma’am,” Breckenridge stammered, “But he said he needed you upstairs in five minutes, and that was two minutes ago.” Another pause. “He was very insistent.”

“Lima charlie, control,” she grumbled, cutting the feed and turning back to her fire teams. “Alright, sweethearts, since our fun got cancelled, you know what that means.”

Groans all around.

“Yeah, yeah.” Shepard injected a bit more of a snap into her voice. “You know the drill. Djana, you’re still squad leader - I want both fire teams warmed up and in PT gear in fifteen. Soon as I’m clear with the Major, we’re up and down that hill. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” came the echoed response. Both teams saluted briskly, disappointment on their faces clear as day.

“Move iit out.” Helmet under her arm, she practically jogged out of the simulation room, opting for the stairwell over the elevator as she took the stairs in twos to head ‘upstairs,’ to Major Favors’ offices atop the training facility’s rad-shielded dome. What the hell does he want now? 

As usual, ‘upstairs’ was a hive of Yeomen moving with the same frustrated urgency as Shepard was, armloads of data-pads and dossiers in tow as zettabytes of information was relayed through the central nervous system of one of the Alliance’s top military training and research facilities. There were more than a few whispers and wide eyes as she passed, and not only because she was fully armored. Most of these researchers and training instructors had attempted to one-up the ‘Hero of Elysium’ during her six-month stint here, and she’d taken a certain amount of satisfaction chewing through the simulations they’d built specifically to see her fail.

One of the Yeomen, a slim young officer with nervous eyes, fell into pace with her. “Commander. The Major is-”

“Waiting on me, yes. Thank you, Gillespie.”

They flushed at the recognition. “He’s uh, not alone, ma’am,” they managed, in a cautioning tone. “Captain Anderson and Admiral Hackett are in there with him.”

Shepard put the brakes on, stopping so suddenly that Gillespie nearly tripped. “Do you know what this is about, Yeoman?” Anderson and Hackett. This is big. Earth-shattering big. She struggled to keep her expression neutral, her voice under control as she studied the Yeoman.

“No, ma’am,” they shook their head vigorously.

“Alright. As you were.” She flashed a smile at the star-struck Yeoman and pushed past a small gaggle of under-officers to get at the door they were all crowding around expectantly, the door marked ‘MAJOR D. FAVORS.’ Taking a steadying breath and softly murmuring a deeply-ingrained phrase in an alien dialect, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, snapping smartly to attention as the three men behind it rose.

“Shepard, glad you could make it,” the deep-throated Anderson drawled, a languid smile lopsided across his face. “At ease, soldier.”

“If I’d known you were coming, sir, I might’ve prettied myself up,” she retorted tartly, barely restraining the grin spreading across her cheeks. “Admiral Hackett. It’s been some time, sir.” The nod she offered the third man was a little more icy. “Major Favors.”

“Commander,” the Major returned the nod, equally icy. “Sorry to have to cut short your simulation.”

“I understand it was urgent, sir?”

“In a manner of speaking.” The stocky Major rubbed at his bristly moustache. “Commander, you’re being re-assigned.”

Shepard blinked, and the color started to creep back into her cheeks. She did her best to keep her tone pleasant. She failed. “All due respect, Major, but what the hell? We’re only just starting to see results, here. This is going to set the program back another six months, at the least.”

“Secure that shit, Shepard,” Favors grunted. “You think I want this? This is coming miles and miles above my head. So far over my head I couldn’t tell you what color the sky is.” He jerked a thumb at Hackett, but it was Anderson who spoke first.

“I didn’t think you wanted this post, Shepard,” the Captain mused. “I had to practically beg you to take this job, cycle you out of active duty zones.”

“I didn’t want to leave my squad,” she countered. “I wanted to finish what we’d started. It takes time, developing that rhythm, building trust. Now we’re going to go through it again? It isn’t good for morale, sir, for the soldiers to burn through COs like this.” The three officers glanced between each other. Shepard sighed, rubbed at her jaw, remembered who, exactly, she was speaking to in that tone. “My apologies, sir. I’ll go where the 103rd needs me most.”

“Your loyalty to your squad does you credit, Shepard, but you aren’t being re-assigned within the 103rd.” Anderson took a seat and gestured for Shepard to follow suit. “You’re being re-assigned to me.”

Favors and Hackett sat, leaving her standing mutely for a moment. “I… don’t understand, sir.”

“Take a look at this.” Thick, calloused fingers thrust a data-pad towards her. A frigate’s diagram glowed orange and white as the display spat out technical readouts and design specifications.

“She’s a prototype deep stealth frigate,” Hackett interjected. “Top of the line, class leader. We developed her alongside the turian Hierarchy, under a sponsorship with the Citadel Council. Optimized for solo reconnaissance missions. State-of-the-art stealth technology, experimental drive core… this is the future of frigate-class vessels. The SSV Normandy SR-1.”

“She’s beautiful,” Shepard breathed.

“She’s mine.” Anderson took the data-pad back. “And I need an XO. It’s an eighteen-month tour. We’re putting her through every shakedown run the Alliance and the Hierarchy can come up with. That includes active duty in unstable regions of space.”

“This is our chance to show the Council that humanity is ready to take the next step on a galactic stage,” Hackett added. “We need the best of the best onboard, to make a good impression. We need you, Shepard.”

She folded her arms. “When do we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little exposition on where Shepard was when she got the call.


	4. Familiar Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard is introduced to the bridge crew of the Normandy.

**Captain Anderson has the deck. XO Pressley stands relieved.**

The pleasant-voiced VI chimed across the deck, accompanied by the scuttling of boots as officers and marines hurried to their feet. They were disciplined, and quick, their eyes alert as they scanned Anderson's broad-shouldered, barrel-chested figure storming aboard, eyed Shepard's taller, leaner frame in his shadow. Anticipation rippled through the crew. She drank it in.

A thin, older man with an even thinner hairline and well-trimmed facial hair greeted them with a salute as pristine as his uniform. "Captain, welcome back. Commander Shepard, welcome aboard. It's been some time."

"You know the Commander, Deck Officer?" Anderson rumbled, his voice thick with amusement.

"Oh, Pressley and I go way back," Shepard laughed. "All the way to Elysium. He was an Ensign on the Agincourt, my first commission. Showed me the ropes.” Charles Pressley was a consummate Alliance officer; detail-oriented, loyal, a little too procedure-focused. She shook his proffered hand, firmly. “Always good to see a familiar face.”

“That’s funny, Pressley - I don’t remember  _ you _ from the movie.” A lean, handsome officer detached from one of the command consoles, dark eyes dancing with amusement. He flashed a grin. “Welcome aboard, Commander.”

“Kaidan!” Protocol and procedure falling off her like a sloughed-off skin, Shepard practically pushed through Anderson and Pressley to bolt across the deck, wrapping the officer in a fierce bear hug. “I thought you wanted the  _ best _ for this op, Captain - what’s this prettyboy doing on your bird?”

“Oof, easy,” Kaidan winced, disentangling himself. “I think you popped a rib.”

“What’s the matter, K?” Shepard barked brassily. “Biotic Squad got you pushing too many pencils?”

“Staff Lieutenant Alenko is our Detail Officer.” Anderson couldn’t hide his own smile anymore. “He’ll be handling the day-to-day of our - your - marine contingent. His resume speaks for himself, of course, but when I saw the two of you had come up in BAaT together…”

“Us L2’s have to stick together,” Shepard grinned. Anderson and Pressley exchanged glances.

“L2 biotic amps,” Kaidan supplied. “We were both fitted with them in Brain Camp as kids. Experimental. A little temperamental, too, if we’re being honest. But considerably more biotic amplification than later models. There aren’t too many L2 biotics left. They, uh.” He scratched the back of his neck, self-consciously. “They didn’t put the dampeners in until the L3. Keeps you from drawing in too much dark matter and uh… burning your brain out.”

Anderson’s eyebrows raised.

“Something to keep an eye on, I’m sure,” a smooth, cultured voice lilted. The voice’s owner, a trim, silver-haired woman, extended her hand in lieu of a salute. “Doctor Karin Chakwas, Chief Medical Officer. It’s an honor, Commander. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I deny everything, Doctor,” a still-grinning Shepard took her hand. “I’m guessing this is where you tell me you’d like to perform a physical, to clear me for active duty.”

“You guess correct.” Chakwas smiled lightly. “Come by the medlab after the Captain has finished your little tour. It shan’t take long.”

“And this is Lieutenant Adams,” Anderson indicated to a stocky man to Chakwas’ right. “Chief Engineer, and a damn good one. We served together on the Tokyo.”

“Hell of a ship,” Adams nodded, “but doesn’t hold a candle to the Normandy. Good to meet you, Commander.”

“That leaves our Deck Officers: Chase, Waaberi, and Grenado,” Anderson motioned to a trio of uniforms with their backs to the GARDIAN arrays. “Operations, Comms, Weapons.” More handshakes. Chase was all arms and legs, copper hair and freckles. Waaberi had smoky eyes and a full figure. Grenado was a tiny, wirey, fiery woman, practically vibrating with energy.

“Saving the best for last, Captain?” a pitched voice pushed through the gaggle of officers, accompanied by a short, stocky bearded man.

“Something like that.” Anderson rolled his eyes. “Shepard, this is-”

“Senior Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau. Call me Joker” He saluted, if a little sloppily. “Best pilot in Fifth Fleet. I’d shake your hand, but you’d break it. Vrolik’s syndrome.” Joker shrugged. “You’re shorter than I expected. I saw your movie. Kind of cheesy, huh?”

An awkward hush fell over the gathered officers. Shepard, stone-faced, arched an eyebrow. This wasn’t the first time she’d run into this kind of reception, and was used to it by now. Still, she cursed Risa Uvarsen for making that awful movie. “Haven’t seen it. Watching yourself seems a little like, uh…” she made a jerking motion with her wrist.

The pilot guffawed. “I  _ like _ her, Captain. Can we keep her?”

Anderson shook his head and groaned. “That’s our senior staff. You can meet the rest of the crew later, once you’ve settled in.” He glanced towards Chakwas. “And once the Doctor has taken a look at you. I’ll meet you in medlab. There’s one more person I need you to meet.”


	5. Special Tactics and Reconnaissance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard is introduced to Nihlus Kryik.

“No scalpel today, right Doctor?”

Chakwas looked up, over the data-pad she’d been inspecting, a wry smile on her face. “Alas.” She motioned over to one of the exam tables. “Sit, please. Just a quick baseline scan, so I can cross-reference your existing files.”

Shepard hopped up onto the exam table and glanced around. The medlab was pristine; that freshly-painted, tags-just-peeled-off look that a brand-new prefab reeks of. Sterile, but in a reassuring way. The Normandy hadn’t yet seen the horrors of conflict and war, hadn’t yet had those cream-colored walls splattered with a friend’s blood. “You have everything you need?”

“Mostly.” The Doctor tapped at her haptic keyboard for a few moments before passing her ‘omni up and down Shepard’s body. “We’re fully supplied for an extended campaign - for human patients, at least. I would like to acquire the proper medical supplies for other Council species, once we have the chance.”

“A little odd, isn’t it?” Shepard cocked an eyebrow, Chakwas watching her expression carefully. “We built this ship with the Council’s help, I mean. I’m a little surprised there isn’t a turian attache or consultant aboard.”

“Open your shirt, please.” The Doctor produced a stethoscope. “Have you served among other Council species before?”

“Serrice, on Thessia. Valkyrie program, two tours,” Shepard admitted, unbuttoning her officer’s tunic. “After I nearly washed out of Brain Camp. And then eight months with a joint Alliance-Hierarchy task force in the Traverse.”

“Serrice. I always wanted to see Serrice,” Chakwas murmured as she worked. “Beautiful mountain country, I’m told.”

“Very.” Shepard sucked in a breath as the cold stethoscope pressed to her chest. “I wish I’d had more time to properly appreciate it. Huntress training is… well, it isn’t the Villa, but it was close.”

“Ah, yes.” The Doctor put away her stethoscope. “Arm, please.” The Commander obliged, pulling her shirt off the rest of the way, exposing a lean frame of sinewy muscle dotted with lines of black ink. “Your file mentioned your N7 designation. You know Captain Anderson well, then, I understand?”

“He was my training supervisor for the last six years.” She sat rock-still as the Doctor took her blood pressure, as well as a few samples. “Good man. Good soldier. Tough, but fair. And he always knows how to get the best out of his command. I, uh.” She scratched her chin. “I wouldn’t be here, if it wasn’t for him. After Illyria…”

“Mmm,” Chakwas nodded. “Your file had mentioned…”

Shepard raised an eyebrow again. “The PTSD, or the disciplinary issues?”

“Both,” Chakwas confirmed. “However I see the latter, at least, seems to be a non-issue.”

“Tell that to Major Favors,” the younger woman barked a laugh. “For some officers, being a good soldier means following orders without thinking about them, thinking about the consequences of them. By that school of thought, I’m not a very good soldier.”

“Well, Commander, I am trained to deal with injuries of the mind as well as the body.” She put a light hand on Shepard’s shoulder. “Should you need someone to talk to.”

“I’ll take you up on that, I’m sure,” Shepard said seriously. “I’ve got a routine, it helps. Fitness, meditation, breathing exercises. Yoga.”

At this, Chakwas’ eyebrows shot up. “Why, Commander. Those almost sound like healthy coping mechanisms to mental trauma. You don’t prefer the old navy traditions of emotional suppression and alcoholism?”

_ I like this woman _ . Shepard winked. “Not till the third date.”

“Well,” the Doctor closed her data-pad. “You can put your shirt back on. You are a picture of vitality and vigor, Commander. You should be an Olympian, not a marine.” She glanced towards the door. “And here comes the Captain, and our guest.”

“Guest?” Shepard inquired quizzically as she shrugged back into her tunic. The door chimed open, and Anderson’s bulky frame pushed in, accompanied by slim, angular figure that dwarfed the broad-shouldered Captain. The new figure wore black and red from head to toe, avian features daubed with white paint in geometric patterns. The turian’s eyes seemed to bore straight through Shepard, weigh her and judge her.

“Good, you’re finished,” Anderson intoned. “Shepard, this is our… ‘guest,’ if you will. Nihlus Kryik. Operative Kryik, this is Commander Sybilla Shepard.”

“Operative,” Shepard greeted him respectfully, offering her hand. After a moment, the turian took it. His clawed hand was powerful, but his grip was restrained, calculated.

“Commander Shepard. Your reputation precedes you.”

“I deny everything,” she answered easily, glancing back towards the Doctor. “So I  _ was _ right. I knew the Council would want a representative to keep an eye on their investment.”

“Will that be a problem, Commander?” The turian clacked his mandibles at her.

“Not at all, sir.” Shepard stood at roughly parade rest, arms clasped behind her back. She had to crane her neck to look up at the turian. “You aren’t the first turian I’ve served alongside.”

“The Havincaw, I know.” His expression was as unreadable as it was alien. “Captain Orientis is an old friend of mine. She spoke very highly of you. It was on her recommendation that I approved your posting as the Normandy’s XO. Among other things.”

“Other things, sir?”

Anderson glanced toward Chakwas, as well. “Doctor, does the Commander have your medical seal of approval?”

“She does, yes.” Chakwas confirmed. “Fit as a fiddle, Captain.”

“Good. Walk with us, Shepard.” Anderson nodded politely to the Doctor. “If you’ll excuse us. We should be getting underway.”

“Of course. I look forward to working with you, Commander - though, hopefully not  _ too _ closely, yes?”

“I’ll do my best,” Shepard winked, following the turian and the Captain out of the medlab. “I get the feeling this isn’t an ordinary shakedown run, even for a top-secret state-of-the-art stealth frigate.”

“You’re right about that. This way, please,” Anderson motioned towards a flight of stairs leading downwards. “Our briefing room is just here. We can speak a little more plainly.” He jerked a head at the crew members, going about their daily duties around them. Nihlus said nothing. The briefing room was long, oblong, and while it seemed to have enough chairs to accommodate the entire CIC and senior officers, she noted it lacked a table of any sort.  _ Military engineering _ , she thought with a flit of a smile, and took a seat.

“So,” Shepard asked, once the other two officers had followed suit. “It’s big, then.”

Nihlus folded his arms and glanced towards Anderson. “How much does she know?”

“I haven’t told her anything, yet,” the Captain shrugged. “But her instincts are good.”

The turian’s mandibles flared. “How good?”

Both sets of eyes fell on her.

“Well,” Shepard drawled, straightening, “I’m not an engineer, but I’m guessing the stealth systems on this ship must be pretty sophisticated to keep everything so hush-hush. So why the full crew? A skeleton crew would prevent any potential leaks - and, knowing the navy’s priorities, it’d be significantly cheaper. A full crew means someone’s expecting we’ll need it.” She held up a finger. “Then, there’s you, Anderson. They don’t send N7s on shakedowns for experimental frigates. And they definitely don’t send  _ two _ N7s. You said I wasn’t being reassigned within the 103rd. That tells me we’re still working for the Alliance, but not necessarily under the usual chain of command.” She held up a second finger. “And lastly, there’s you, our esteemed turian guest,” she nodded to Nihlus. “I expected a Hierarchy attache, but you aren’t that. You’re obviously military, but you didn’t give a rank. And you represent the Council, but you aren’t a bureaucrat.” She held up a third finger. “I’m going to have to say… Spectre.”

She leaned back, glancing between the two men. “How am I doing?”

“Good. Very good.” The turian’s mandibles clacked in what looked like approval. “Commander, how familiar are you with Eden Prime?”

“Eden Prime?” She frowned. “It’s a garden world. One of our first colonies beyond the Charon relay, I believe? They say it’s a paradise.” She shrugged. “I’ve never been.”

“It is a paradise,” Nihlus agreed. “It’s also built atop a Prothean ruin. One that both the Alliance and the Council have been excavating for some time now.”

“And now they’ve found something,” Anderson interjected. “Some kind of beacon. That’s why we have a full crew, that’s why there are two N7s and a Spectre onboard. We needed the stealth drive online and a team of the best specialists available to make a covert pickup.”

“Eden Prime doesn’t have the facilities to properly handle a discovery like this.” Nihlus spoke bluntly. “And Council law mandates that all Prothean-related discoveries be examined under Council oversight. So we’re headed to Eden Prime to retrieve this beacon.”

“This is big, Shepard,” Anderson added. “The last time we made a discovery like this, it advanced our technology by two hundred years.”

“So we’re in and out before anyone knows we were there.” Shepard nodded. “That doesn’t explain why this is an eighteen-month posting.”

Nihlus and Anderson shared a glance.

“You don’t miss a thing, do you, Commander?” Nihlus said, his flanged voice tinted with amusement. “The beacon’s not the only reason I’m here.” He glanced towards Anderson.

The Captain cleared his throat. “Operative Kryik wants to see you in action, Shepard. He’s here to evaluate you.”

Shepard’s eyebrows climbed. “I’m being considered for Spectre status?”

“Your service record speaks volumes for your capabilities.” Nihlus crossed his arms and leaned backwards in his chair. “Elysium, Torfan, your service with the 103rd, your training on Thessia, your N7 designation… Spectres are an elite group. It’s rare to find an individual with the courage and skill we seek. There’s no ‘training’ - you either have what it takes to be a Spectre, or you don’t.”

“I assume this is good for the Alliance,” Shepard risked a glance towards Anderson.

“The Alliance has been pushing for this for a long time, for more say in galactic affairs, shaping policy. A human Spectre would show the Council how far we’ve come. It shows we’re ready to take the next step on a galactic stage.” He folded his meaty hands. “We need this, Shepard.”

“Eden Prime will be the first of several missions together,” Nihlus explained. “I’ll be evaluating you over the course of this deployment. You’ll be in charge of the ground team, and I’ll be along to observe. A small strike team should offer the best chance at success. In and out, fast and quiet, without anyone knowing we were there.”

“I’m your girl, sir,” Shepard intoned solemnly. “I won’t let you - either of you - down.”

“I know you won’t,” Anderson said, rising. “You never have.”


	6. Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A routine mission is anything but.

Shepard was already strapping on her sabatons when Kaidan and another Alliance marine made their way to the ready room. “Shepard, this is Corporal Jenkins,” the Lieutenant said with a grin and a slap to the man’s shoulder. Jenkins grew up on Eden Prime, knows the lay of the land, so to speak. I thought he’d be the best one to come down with us.”

“It’s an honor, Commander,” Jenkins managed, offering a slightly shaky salute. Shepard eyed him; thick-necked, corn-fed farm-boy, the type the Alliance recruited by the thousands across every colony they could stake a claim to. “You don’t think we’ll stay on Eden Prime too long, do you? I’m dying for some real action!”

“One drop at a time, Corporal,” she cautioned, not ungently. “Keep your head up and your eyes open, and you’ll do just fine.”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.” He reddened. “It’s just… two N7s and a Spectre onboard? I’ve never been assigned to anything like this, before. This could be my big chance to prove myself to the brass!”

Shepard couldn’t help but smile. “Not without your hardsuit on, it won’t. You too, Alenko.” She slapped one of her greaves on, for emphasis.

Both men set about to stripping down to identical black compression bodygloves, while Shepard pulled down crates of armor marked for both of them. They worked dutifully, if not very efficiently, Jenkins chattering all the while. “So you two came up through the ranks together? Wow, Lieutenant - you must’ve gone on a lot of missions like this together!”

“Actually,” Kaidan grunted as he twisted to buckle a strap on his breastplate, “I’ve never been in combat. Came close a time or two, but I’ve never had to pull a trigger to save my life, or anyone elses’.”

“Really?” Jenkins gawked. “You weren’t on Torfan? Or anywhere in the Traverse with Anderson and the 103rd?”

“I’m an adept and a tech specialist,” Kaidan chuckled. He jerked a thumb towards Shepard, now fully armored and running her hands over a selection of weapons. “Commander Shepard is Vanguard Division, son, biotic commando. She runs  _ toward _ the things normal people are supposed to run away from. Me, I just keep my head down.”

“The Lieutenant is just being modest. There aren't too many soldiers I'd trust to watch my six, and he's at least two of them. Now, bring it in."

Jenkins looked confused as Shepard and Alenko put arms around each other's shoulders and dragged the broad-shouldered Corporal into their huddle. "Special Forces tradition," Kaidan explained. "She does it every drop."

"Alright, sweethearts," Shepard growled affectionately, "We're a team, and there's nothing to worry about. We come here, and we're gonna conquer, and we're gonna kick some, is that understood?" She squeezed both men's shoulders. "That's what we're gonna do. We are going to go, and we are gonna get some." Shepard's voice rose to a battlefield bellow. "You lean and mean, LT?"

"Yes ma'am!" Kaidan shouted.

"You lean and mean, Corporal?"

" _ Hell _ yeah!" Jenkins grinned.

Shepard pounded both of them on the shoulders. "Who's like us?"

"Damn few!" the marines roared as one. "And they're all dead!"

"Alright, sweethearts, let's get hot." Shepard handed each of them a folded-up rifle and a sidearm. “Move it out. Lets get on that ready line, Operative Kryik is waiting for us.”

Jenkins made a face as he slotted the rifle on his back. “You’d think they could afford to outfit us with something a little more high-tech than this Hahne-Kedar stuff. Even Elkoss Combine would be better.”

Kaidan rolled his eyes. “Oh, here we go.”

“Let me tell you something, Corporal,” Shepard drawled, ignoring her Lieutenant. “That Lancer is a marine’s best friend. She’ll always shoot - you can drag her through mud, cover her in ice, pull her backwards through a thresher maw’s guts. You can feed this gun to a krogan and it’ll still shoot.”

“Weighs a goddamn ton, though,” Jenkins complained.

“Heavy is good,” Shepard grinned. “Heavy is reliable. If you burn your heat sink, you can always hit them with it.”

“Do you get a credit every time you say that?” Kaidan jabbed, as they hurried through the Normandy's guts toward the shuttle bay.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be explaining the facts of life to Corporal Jenkins, here. I'd be on a beach somewhere." She palmed the elevator's door panel, finding Anderson and Nihlus awaiting them. Fully armored, the turian Spectre was an even more imposing figure, all black and crimson and jagged lines. She could feel Jenkins' involuntary gulp.

"Commander, there you are," the turian intoned. "And your squad is ready. Good."

"Do they know we're coming, sir?"

"They do," Anderson confirmed as the freight elevator rumbled downward. "A squad from the 2nd Frontier Division is set to meet us at the site."

"You're coming with us, Operative?" Jenkins gawked.

"I move faster alone," Nihlus grunted. “I’ll be scouting out ahead. You’ll get status updates from me, but otherwise I want radio silence.”

“We’ve got your back, sir.” Shepard nodded. “Let’s get on that ready line,” She gave the Corporal a light push out of the elevator and into the deployment deck.

**Uhh, Captain? We’ve got a problem.**

Joker’s voice came in shaky over the high-priority comm, blasting out of Anderson, Nihlus and Shepard’s ‘omnis. All three glanced at each other before the Captain answered.

“What’s wrong, Joker?”

**Transmission from Eden Prime, sir. You’d better take a look at this. Forwarding it to you now.**

A hololithic image floated into view over Anderson’s upraised forearm. The footage was shaky, grainy; a soldier’s helmet-mounted camera, most likely. Small arms fire and explosions rock the scene, and the camera’s POV tilts back violently as an Alliance marine rushes toward them, shouting “get down!” before standing overtop of them and firing at an unknown assailant. Another face floated into view; the stars on their helmet marking them as an officer of the 2nd Frontier Division.

“We are under attack! Taking heavy casualties. I repeat: heavy casualties! We can’t… argh! --eed evac! They came out of nowhere. We need--”

There was a high-pitched whine and the officer’s face disappeared. The camera’s POV shook back and forth, showing a beleaguered squad of soldiers, firing wildly in all directions. One of the soldiers, helmetless, is about to fire, when his face freezes in abject terror. The camera panned towards the source of his fear, and all five soldiers took involuntary breaths.

Something was coming out of the sky, something sleek and black; a cuttlefish profile, a claw with grasping talons. The clouds boiled and seethed around it, as if the very heavens and skies rejected the unnaturalness, the foulness of the thing descending upon them. Shepard felt a chill run down her spine, the phantom of teeth at her ear, of a primordial, nameless terror, evocative of when humanity huddled in caves and feared the shadows and the things that came out of them. She glanced towards Nihlus and saw the same apprehension in those cold, avian eyes.

Death hung above Eden Prime.

The camera’s pan spun sickeningly as the gunfire around it picked up the pace. There was a terrible, high-pitched scream of feedback, a sound like sharpened claws upon stone, a flash of panicked marines desperately seeking shelter, seeking safety. Then there was an awful howl, and as the feed cut, there was nothing.

**Everything cuts out after that,** Joker said in a strangled voice. **No comms traffic at all. Just goes dead. There’s nothing.**

“Anderson,” Shepard said quietly. “Can you reverse and hold at 38.5?”

The feed flowed backwards until the terrible apparition re-appeared, scything through the atmosphere, tentacles poised to seize them all within its grasp, to tear them all to shreds. Shepard’s whole body was as tense as a coiled spring, her jaw set. Something in that sleek, sinister profile burned into her memory, as if it were unlocking something hidden there. Something…

“Shepard?”

She blinked. Anderson peered at her, concern on his face. “This mission just got a lot more complicated,” the Captain muttered. “Maybe I should-”

“No,” Shepard shook her head. “We stick with the plan. We go in, fast and hard, recover the beacon. Joker; any other Alliance ships in the area?”

**No, ma’am,** came the reply. **Just us.**

“Then it’s just us.” She checked the thermal exhaust on her Lancer.

“What about survivors, Captain?” Kaidan asked anxiously.

“Helping survivors has to be a secondary objective. The beacon’s your top priority.” Kaidan looked like he was about to say something, but Shepard elbowed him in the side and shot him a look. He caught her eyes and nodded.

**Approaching the drop point, Commander.**

“Alright, sweethearts,” the Commander growled. “Let’s move.”


	7. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaidan learns the price of war, first hand.

The sky above Eden Prime was aflame.

Shepard moved beneath the shadow of the Normandy at a crouch, rifle already to her shoulder as she scanned a tattered horizon. Ash and befouled air wafted up the rocky ridge they’d landed on. Trees swayed around them in an unnatural wind. Down below, they could see - and hear - a colony aflame.

“Oh God,” Jenkins whispered. “What happened here?”

“Smells like smoke and death,” Kaidan muttered. He, too, had his rifle up, but his eyes were nervous.

“Stay focused,” Shepard snapped. “I’m on point. Jenkins, with me. Alenko, on our six. Keep it tight, people.”

They flowed over the rocky ground in quick, military precision, slipping from outcropping to outcropping, directed by Shepard’s terse commands and hand-signals. Sounds of small arms fire popped and snapped intermittently. Thunder snarled, the fierce protests of a scorched atmosphere, as a light pattering of rain began to fall.

“Oh, God,” Jenkins choked, stopping. “Oh, God.”

He stood over a dead body, charred beyond recognition. Bullet holes and blast craters splattered the rocks around them, a testament to the ferocity of the volley that likely killed them. From her vantage point a few meters away, Shepard could make out what looked like a few more bodies, just ahead. The young Corporal was white as a sheet.

“I might’ve known these people.” He pawed at the first corpse with nerveless fingers. “D’you think - are they civilians? Are they from the 2nd Frontier? Shouldn’t we-”

“Jenkins, we can see to their burial later.” Kaidan glanced around the stone-strewn lowlands. “We gotta move, man, we’re exposed here.”

“I can just drag them a little bit away,” Jenkins stammered. “I can just-”

There was a low-pitched whine, like the swarming of an angry hornet. A silver dart dislodged from a cloud, and then another, and another. They screamed towards the marines with impossible speed.

“Corporal,  _ get down _ ,” Shepard hissed, snapping her rifle up. “Kaidan, nine o’clock, I’ve got-”

“Jenkins, listen to the Commander,” Kaidan said softly, not hearing. He took a step forward, hand outstretched. “Come on, man, let’s-”

A shimmering field of force surrounded the silver shapes. Something extended from the bottom of each; something long and pointed, like an insect’s stinger.

“Corporal!” Shepard roared, and her rifle roared alongside her.

One of the drones shattered in a shower of twisted metal and retina-searing light, torn apart by the volly of high-explosive rounds. The other two returned fire with a shrill staccato. Jenkins had time enough to scream before the concentrated fire ripped through his shields and perforated his hardsuit. For a terrible second, the Corporal seemed to be suspended in mid-air, held aloft by a hail of flechettes. Then he collapsed like a marionette with the strings cut, twitching only slightly in a pool of his own blood.

“Jenkins!” Kaidan yelled, eyes bulging. He made another step towards the downed marine before Shepard grabbed him by the shoulder, slammed him into the cover of the rocky outcropping she was half-crouched behind. A second hail of high-automatic fire riddled the spot where he’d just been standing, sent clouds of dirt and flecks of stone pinging off their hardsuits. He struggled to stand, struggled against the iron grip keeping him from dashing out into that hail of death.

“He’s gone.” Shepard jerked her head out just long enough to return fire. The drones bobbed and weaved with insectoid grace, darting out of reach. Shots popped and whined all around the two marines.

“He’s not!” Kaidan insisted. “He’s still moving, I can get to him, just let me-”

“Kaidan!” Her voice bubbled over in anger, loud enough to cow the Lieutenant into silence. He stared at her with pained eyes and a quivering jaw. She softened her tone, but not her gaze. Her gaze was ice. “ _ He’s gone _ .”

Kaidan struggled for a moment or two more before sagging against her grip. “ _ Dammit _ .”

Her blood thundered, boiled behind a glacial veneer. “Alright, listen,” Shepard panted. “They’re going to figure out they can just flank us in about ten seconds. They’re drones, they don’t have too much processing power, and they can’t track more than one target at once. So we’re going to have to split their fire.” She motioned with her head to another outcropping of rock - a few meters past where Jenkins’ body lay exposed. “I’m going to break for those rocks. When I do-”

“Shepard, that’s crazy!” Kaidan argued. “They’ll-”

“When I do,” she rode over him, “they’ll be so occupied with me that they’ll line themselves up for you to drop them out of the sky. Understood?” He opened his mouth, and she cut him off again. “The only thing I want to hear out of your mouth is ‘yes, ma’am.’”

He closed his mouth. After a second, he gave her a grudging “Yes, ma’am.”

“And Alenko?” She glanced backwards at him as she dropped herself low, legs like coiled springs.

“Yes, ma’am?” His eyes were still wide, but the hands gripping his rifle were steady.

“Don’t miss,” she deadpanned, and then she was running. Both drones immediately swiveled to cover her, stingers spitting a hail of lethal flechettes as she sprinted from cover to cover. She knew how fast and how long she could run flat-out at this altitude, in this gravity, but she knew how fast those drones moved, too - and they seemed to be better at tracking targets than Alliance models. Which meant-

A shot whined off her hardsuit’s kinetic barrier. Another vaporized a waist-high rock formation to her right. A third came dangerously close to her helmet.

- _ which meant you should focus on one problem at a time, Billie _ , she chided mentally, as she willed herself to run faster. The rattle of fire streaked closer. She was still a few paces from the shelter of the rocks, and the drones were closing in.  _ Anytime now, K _ .

As if on cue, a volley of tight, controlled fire sent both drones exploding into showers of tiny fragments. Shepard paused a beat to catch her breath, glancing backwards to spot Kaidan scanning the skies for more drones. A few tense moments passed. “I think we’re clear.”

Nerves still singing, they walked down to where Jenkins’ body lay. The young marine’s eyes were glazed over, staring blankly upward at his homeworld’s ruined sky. His hardsuit had been nearly peeled open. There was a look of confusion frozen on his face, of fear. Kaidan knelt and closed his eyes. “Ripped right through his barrier. He didn’t even have a chance.” His hand clenched into a fist, voice low and frustrated. “I told him to… We’ve got to radio the Normandy, tell them-”

“No,” Shepard shook her head, her own voice sounding a thousand miles away to her ears. “We proceed with the mission. We can see to a proper burial and contact his folks after. But right now…” She put a supportive hand on his shoulder, trying not to think about Torfan, or Chellix, or the faces and names of soldiers like Jenkins she'd sent to their deaths. “Right now the best thing we can do for Corporal Richard L. Jenkins is to get to that beacon. That’s what we came here to do.”

Kaidan stood, awkwardly, still looking down at the dead marine. “I’ve, uh. I’ve never… lost anyone under my command, before.”

“Kaidan.”

He glanced over to her, his brown eyes filled with sorrow. There was a sadness in her, and a fury at the injustice of the Jenkins' of the galaxy dying in the dirt without ever knowing the reason. She didn't let it touch her, couldn't let it touch her. She was ice; solid, unmelting, unbreakable.

“My command,” Shepard said quietly. “My responsibility.”

He winced. “Billie, I didn’t mean-”

“I need you to stay focused, Lieutenant Alenko,” she cut in, giving him a meaningful look. She couldn’t be Billie right now, and needed him to realize he couldn’t be Kaidan right now. Much as she loved this man who was very nearly her brother, the paths of service they had taken couldn’t have been more different. She wondered just how much she’d changed, and how much Kaidan had stayed the same. She wondered what she was going to put in the letter to Richard L. Jenkins' family. She held her arm out.

He knelt next to Jenkins a moment longer, silent, before sighing and accepting her help up. “Yes, ma’am. Understood.”

They moved out.


	8. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Kaidan rescue Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, of the 2nd Frontier.

The woods around Eden Prime’s largest colony were crawling with the strange drones. Three times, Shepard and Alenko were forced into another running firefight, and three times they were forced to utilize their earlier strategy of directing fire one way while the other took them down. Shepard’s legs and lungs ached from more than just the smoke wafting from the colony, but aside from a few flash-burns and scratches on the paintjob of her hardsuit, both marines were uninjured. 

Small arms fire rattled and popped throughout the outskirts. Someone, at least, was still putting up a fight. “I’ve got movement, few hundred meters ahead,” Kaidan hissed as the two of them stalked through the underbrush. “Too slow for a drone. I think.”

Shepard glanced at the motion sensor of her ‘omni. “Friendlies?”

He nodded. “There has to be two sides to all this shooting, right?”

As if on cue, another burst of fire rang out - two bursts of a staccato, high-pitched whine that sounded unlike any firearm she was familiar with, followed by the almost familial deep-throated growl of an Alliance-issued M7.

"One of ours," Shepard grunted, "and still in the fight. Watch my six." She sprinted forward through the underbrush, dashing from tree to tree to avoid breaking cover for too long, rifle to her shoulder as she scanned for hostiles, for the beleaguered friendly under fire. The shooting continued; the way the Alliance was pouring it on, they were disciplined  _ and _ heavily outnumbered. That terrible high-pitched whine that followed filled the night like a buzzsaw. Shepard sucked in air, sprinting full-out. She’d lost one soldier tonight, and didn’t plan on losing another.

The lone marine had her back to a rock wall. Her armor looked hand-me-down, barely regulation standard with a non-regulation paint job, a casualty of underequipped and underfunded colonial defense forces. There was nothing wrong with her rifle or her aim, though - as Shepard cleared a copse of trees she watched with some admiration as the woman sighted one of her attackers and blew the spindly, beak-profiled mech to shrapnel and splinters. The other three moved faster and with more purpose than any LOKI she’d ever seen, moving to flank and cover each other both, their rifles chirping that horrid sound as they forced the woman desperately back into cover. Shepard’s eyes widened in recognition at the lamp-headed synthetic: three-toed, sleek lines, armor plates over corded piping like synthetic muscle.

Geth.

Without slowing her pace Shepard curled her left hand into a two-fingered claw and hurled it out in front of her, the memetic gesture accompanied by a surge of energy to her biotic amp. A swirling, churning field of dark matter rippled outward from her palm, ripping up grass, scattering rock, and knocking the advancing geth backwards. The range was long, the blast imprecise; her asari instructors would have laughed at her. Still, her raw strength was enough to topple the synthetics and buy the beleaguered marine a second.

“Alenko!” Shepard roared, diving into a prone firing position. “Light ‘em up!” He’d managed to keep up with her, and she could hear his rifle bark alongside hers. The colonial marine scrambled into cover, dropping to a knee to pour fire on the synthetics trying to swarm her. Taken unawares, the geth troopers had no chance. Like the drones, they detonated with eye-searing sparks of light as they died.

Kaidan moved quickly up to help Shepard up, scanning the horizon with his rifle to check for drones. His movements seemed much more confident, self-assured. Either he’d shaken off Jenkins’ death, or he was just in a more high-functioning state of shock. She hated herself for the sense of relief that came over her.

“Thanks for your help.” The marine jogged over to meet them. Her voice was young, and out of breath, and filled with the same uncertain numbness as Shepard could read on the lines in Alenko’s face. “I didn’t think I was going to make it.” The marine’s eyes widened when she saw the stars and bars on Shepard’s collar. “Uh, Commander. Ma’am,” she stammered, saluting. “Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212. Are you in charge here, ma’am?”

Shepard gave her a once-over. She was shorter than the both of them, and a little stockier; no doubt built like a cornerback under the armor. “You wounded, Williams?”

“No ma’am,” she shook her head. “A few scrapes and burns, nothing serious. The others…” Her voice shook. “The others weren’t so… I don’t know how I…”

Shepard glanced at Kaidan and took a knee, motioning for the other two to follow suit. “Slow down, Chief. Where’s the rest of your squad? Tell me what happened here.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Williams took a deep breath. “Oh, man… we were patrolling the perimeter when the attack hit. Tried to get off a distress call, but they cut the comms right away. We were going to double back to the beacon, but we walked right into an ambush. I don’t think any of the others…” Her voice cracked again, and she gulped. “I think I’m the only one left. I’ve been fighting for my life ever since.”

“You couldn’t have done anything to save them,” Shepard said, not unkindly.

“We held our positions as long as we could. The geth were just…” Williams balled her hands into fists. “Just too many of them.”

“There haven’t been geth outside the Veil in two hundred years,” Kaidan wondered aloud. “What the hell are they doing here now? In these numbers?”

“They must be after the beacon?” Williams guessed. “It’s just over the ridge. The 232 was supposed to be guarding it. Maybe their unit did better than mine.”

“Geth,” Shepard muttered under her breath. “Geth, and a Prothean beacon.” She stood. “Alright, Williams, my fire team is down a rifle, so you’re with us. I’m Shepard; this is Lieutenant Alenko.” Williams’ eyes widened a little at ‘Shepard,’ but she just nodded, and stood, and checked her rifle. Shepard liked her instantly. “Good. Let’s move out.”


End file.
